I'm back! :) I know it's been quite some time, but I hope you're going to enjoy this new story of mine anyway; in it, Killian ends up in our world instead of Neverland after he loses Milah and Emma is the one who finds him. She had never met Neal so there's no Henry/jail thing, but she is a thief and she is heartbroken from always being abandoned. It's going to be a wild ride, so buckle your seatbelts, and here we go! P.S. Second chapter will be up on Friday.

Emma Swan is a thief, but not the kind you see in movies, the kind that dresses in black catsuits and sneaks into rich people's houses and robs them blind so she can sell their priceless art on the black market.

Emma Swan is a petty thief, robbing convenience stores and shoplifting at the mall; in all honesty, she's not any better than an average klepto, the only difference being that she's not doing it for the rush.

She's doing it to survive.

The life she'd been leading since they kicked her out of her orphanage is full of uncertainty and constant fear that she's going to get caught and end up in prison, but she much prefers it to serving drinks to middle-aged men in some dingy bar; she had tried that too, but her employer didn't much like the way she punched every customer who touched her ass.

At ripe old age of twenty-two, Emma Swan is already tired, constantly tethering on the edge of despair; she doesn't have any friends, she had never been in love, and her only connection to another human being is to the elderly owner of the motel she'd been living in for the past two years because they have a nice arrangement going. She kicks out people who stay past what they paid for and Joe lets her have a room for free, and even though they aren't friends, and he doesn't treat her like a long lost daughter or anything as cliché as that, he respects her, and he's the only man that ever did.

Currently, Emma is running down a narrow alley trying to get to her hiding place at the river's edge before the cop that's been chasing her for the past ten blocks catches up to her; it's not the first time she's doing this, but unlike the other officers of the law, this one doesn't seem to be the kind to give up.

Emma is in pretty good shape, but she's still winded when she finally reaches the river, and she wishes she could go left, jump in her car and drive away, but if this cop sees her tags she'd be toast, so she turns right and flies down the rickety steps that lead under the pier; once upon a time this place would have been crowded with people wanting to get a ride on a sightseeing cruise, but now the pier is abandoned, and since it's so wet under it, not even homeless people want to crush here.

Which makes it perfect for Emma's purpose.

It's dark here, and it smells, but she just wrinkles her nose and carefully steps through the mud because the last thing she needs is to fall in it. She's straining her ears for any sound of the cop, and her eyes almost miss a figure lying face first in the mud on the bank of the river.

A chill runs down her spine because getting caught after stealing a bunch of food is one thing, and getting caught with a dead body in close proximity to you is another one altogether.

Emma comes closer and crouches next to what seems to be a man wearing a long leather coat and gingerly turns him on his back, cringing when he cries out in pain and pressing her hand against his mouth gently but firmly, thankful that she's wearing gloves when she wipes the mud off his cheeks with her free hand.

His skin is hot and clammy even through the worn leather of her glove, and his eyes are closed, so she doubts he's even aware of her presence.

"Shhh, just stay quiet", she says against his ear, bracing her free arm against his chest to keep him where he is; even though he must be in a pretty bad shape, and his protests are feeble at best, she's still impressed that he's trying to make her let him go.

The pier creaks and Emma freezes, closing her eyes and praying that the man she's holding stops thrashing about.

"Please stop fighting me", Emma whispers and pulls back enough to look at him, and the second his eyes open and lock on hers she knows she's in trouble because even though they are hazy with fever and pain, there's also something in their blue depths that touches something inside her.

It can't be explained, but she feels connected to him in a way she had never experienced before.

The steps pause right above their heads and both Emma and the man lying next to her stay perfectly still; his jaw shifts when he grits his teeth but he doesn't make a sound.

Seconds tick past and Emma is certain that the hammering of her heart is loud enough to make the cop come under the pier, but eventually he walks away and a minute later she hears a car that apparently picks him up.

Now that it seems she's not in danger of being arrested anymore, Emma feels a little embarrassed at how desperate she'd been so she quickly releases her waterlogged accomplice.

"Sorry", she tells him and looks him up and down for the first time, her eyes taking in his leather pants, the red vest, and a hook glinting at the edge of his left arm.

"Is this Hell?" He says, and when she looks up at his face she finds him looking at her the way you'd look at the light at the end of the tunnel.

"Hell? No, it's Portland", Emma tells him and looks him over again, trying to find the injury that's making him feverish; his clothes are all black and the light here is too dim, so she doesn't find anything. "Are you some kind of an actor or something?"

He doesn't seem to be listening to her, his breathing shallow and his face turning into a mask of pain that for some unfathomable reason makes her want to help him.

"Don't you dare pass out!" She yells at him, for the moment forgetting all about the cop and why she's here in the first place, shaking him roughly until he opens his eyes and cries out in pain.

"Go away and let me die in peace", he says through gritted teeth and she snatches her hands away, climbing to her feet and feeling like an idiot for even contemplating helping him.

After all, what could she do?

She makes exactly five steps before she goes back to him, crouches behind him and roughly pulls him back until he's leaning against the wall where it's darker, but not that wet; he curses her all the way there and doesn't stop even when she releases him, cradling his left arm to his chest with his right and looking so pale she can make out his face even in this barely-there light.

"I can't help you if you don't tell me what happened to you", Emma says as calmly as she can, all the while wondering why the hell is she still here; it's not like she owes him anything for staying quiet for two minutes, right?

"I don't want your help", he practically growls at her and Emma narrows her eyes and presses her lips into a thin line, finally reaching the end of her patience.

"Well good, because you're not getting it", she tells him and turns on her heel, her stalking exit hampered by the fact that her feet keep slipping in the mud.

The pale sun is still too bright in her eyes once she reaches the steps leading up toward the road, and she squints as she takes them two at a time, telling herself that the wannabe-pirate isn't her responsibility, or her problem.

"He had to go and pick my pier to try and die under", she mutters under her breath and goes to get her car, perfectly aware of the fact that she's all talk.

She's coming back for him.

"You are out of your mind", Emma tells herself as she descends the steps again, hoping that the pirate would somehow not be there.

No such luck.

He's still sitting against the wall, and he doesn't even move when she shakes his right shoulder none too gently.

She pokes his left, and he cries out in pain, his eyes snapping open; even in the thin light of her flashlight, they are breathtakingly blue, like sky on a clear summer day, like crystal water of Caribbeans, like Texas bluebonnets she had always wanted to see in person, like-

"Can you stand up?"

"I thought you left", he says and glares at her as well as he can in his state, and Emma wishes she could not care and just leave him here, never looking back and wondering what became of him.

But she can't.

"I just went to get the car", she says, and even though it's not strictly true, he doesn't have to know that.

He continues glaring.

"Can you stand up?" She asks him again, already trying to figure out what she's going to do if he says he can't; she could, of course, call the ambulance, but since she doubts he'd be able to tell them his health insurance number if he even has one, that wouldn't help him much.

"Listen, lass", he says, and Emma gapes because his voice goes low and seductive, his eyes burning with something other than fever. "You don't owe me anything for staying quiet earlier; just go on your merry way and leave me here… I'm going to be alright."

"Half an hour ago you were asking me to leave you die in peace", she tells him and his face closes, the light fading from his eyes as quickly as it had appeared.

"It's what I deserve."

"Sorry, buddy. You're not dying under my pier", Emma says and wraps her arms around him, tugging until he decides it would be easier and hurt less if he just goes with the flow.

It takes them a while to get up the stairs because he keeps tripping and Emma feels her back protest because he's leaning on her heavily, but at least he's moving; it's a small victory, but she'll take what she can get.

It's a relief to shove him into the backseat of her Golf and close the door on him before he can change his mind, but she doesn't let herself think too much about the reason she's so hell-bent on helping him.

"Are you gonna tell me what's with the costume?" She asks him after she starts the car and glances in the rearview mirror to see him looking like he's going to pass out any second now. "Hey, eyes front, pirate!"

"I'm not wearing a costume", he says slowly, like she's the one a little out of it, and Emma raises her eyebrows at him. "These are my clothes, and I am a pirate."

"Are you gonna tell me that the hook is real too?" She chuckles and he gives her a dry smile before sliding lower in his seat and gritting his teeth.

"They didn't start calling me Hook for nothing", he says, and Emma almost runs the light because her lie detector tells her that he's telling her the truth.

Or what he thinks is the truth.

"As in Captain Hook?"

"Yes", he says weakly, and Emma decides to play along.

"Where's the Jolly, Captain?" She asks, and his chin trembles as if he's about to cry, making her want to reach between the seats and lay her hand on his knee in a comforting gesture she is absolutely not going to offer him.

"I don't know."

"What do you know?"

"We were sailing to Neverland, but we ended up in this world, and my crew rebelled", he says, and he sounds utterly disgusted with himself.

"Did they make you walk the plank?" Emma can't help herself to ask, and he looks at her sharply, his eyes meeting hers in the rearview mirror and making her regret what she had said because it's not his fault he's talking nonsense. "I'm sorry."

"They threw me overboard rather unceremoniously", he says, his voice getting weaker; Emma slams on the brakes and jerks him awake.

"You have to stay awake, Captain."

"My name is Killian", he says, and Emma thinks: your name is trouble.

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